


10. Unconscious

by titC



Series: Whumptober 2019 [10]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: M/M, whumptober2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-10-17 05:27:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20615717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titC/pseuds/titC
Summary: Foggy's asleep.





	10. Unconscious

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Whumptober](https://whumptober2019.tumblr.com/) for organizing it and [PixelByPixel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PixelByPixel) for the beta!

Foggy had been moody since he’d broken up with Marci. Not that it was unheard of, but Matt had been pretty sure they were going to make it this time.

They hadn’t. Marci had gotten a job offer in Boston and after two months of commuting every weekend it was over. There was a guy there that she’d had a thing with in college, turned out they still liked each other, and Foggy hadn’t really put up a fight. Matt couldn’t figure out why at all, because Fogs had always had a thing for Marci (and she for him). So he’d been moping, yes, but he hadn’t tried to win her back – or find anyone else.

The one good thing that had come out of it was that he’d relocated to a smaller, cheaper apartment in the Kitchen, and that meant Matt could check on him more easily. They’d made enemies over the years, and it reassured Matt to finish his night job with a stop on Foggy’s roof. His heartbeat still meant home, even if they hadn’t been roommates in years. He hadn’t shared with anyone else in all the years since.

They’d been working long hours on a case all through the week while Karen had been scouring city archives, and Foggy had stayed later that evening to pore over paper files that Matt couldn't read anyway, not until they got the Braille transcription.

“Go home, have a nap before you get out again; I’ll try and see if there’s anything interesting in those.”

Matt had tried to protest a little, but Foggy had been right. Matt wasn’t of any help at the office and he’d be a better Daredevil if he slept first, so he followed that piece of advice. But it was almost morning now, time to leave the streets and head back to bed; and that meant checking Foggy was all right first.

He was sleeping, as he should at this hour. Matt sat down on the roof ledge, his legs dangling in the air. Every night (morning) it was harder not to go down the fire escape and sit right on the other side of the wall behind which Foggy was sleeping. Matt told himself it was silly, that he just felt a little bit lonely sometimes. But he couldn't use Foggy to fill that emptiness, especially at a time when he was not over his breakup.

Matt should, perhaps, get a lover, or at least get laid, as Maggie would say. But, even if he could hide his Daredevil identity from them in spite of the scars and the hours he kept, he didn’t _want_ anyone. The only person he wanted to be close to was Foggy, and what they had… wasn’t like that.

Or maybe he just needed some non-violent contact, but Maggie wasn’t the touchy feely kind; she didn’t hug him. It would be, well, awkward. And they didn't have that kind of relationship, anyway. Foggy, on the other hand… Foggy was more of the hugging kind, but he’d toned it down lately. Maybe it reminded him too much of Marci, maybe physical closeness with anyone was hard right now. Matt wouldn't push. Foggy had already given so much and forgiven even more. It wouldn't be fair to ask for that, too. His own comfort didn’t matter, not when it was at the expense of someone else’s.

So he sat up there, Foggy’s sounds loud and clear in his ears. The night was warm, and so his window was half-open. Matt smiled; it meant every heartbeat, every inhale and exhale went straight up to him. Nothing between them. Matt decided to indulge for once, and carefully made his way down the fire escape, trying to be as quiet as possible. He didn't want to wake Foggy up; he’d been working late. He deserved a good night’s sleep.

But Matt was tired and he slipped, making the metal railing rattle loudly. “Fuck!” And he’d been right outside Fog’s window, too. He shouldn’t have climbed down, he should have gone home and –

“Matt, that you?” He didn’t answer. “Just come in already, yeah?” Foggy’s voice was rough and a bit muffled, as if his face was half-buried into one of the fat pillows he preferred. “Window’s open.”

“You can’t just say that, Foggy. What if it was someone else?” Matt still slid in and sat on the windowsill. He didn’t dare move in further.

“But it’s not.” A click, the hum of electricity. Fogs had turned on a light.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up, I should…”

“Yeah, well, you’re here now. Jesus, what did you do? You’re covered in… ash? And clumps of… stuff?”

“Flour.” Among other things.

“Flour.” The sheets rustled as Foggy sat up. “Cooking competition gone wrong?”

“Someone trying to rob a grocery got creative. Flour, laundry soap, sugar, cartons of milk and cans of soup…”

“Okay, that explains it. You know where the shower is, right?”

“I don’t need…”

“Just go. You look like a mess.”

“I was just going home.”

“Matt, take your PJs off and go take a shower right now.”

“PJs? Aw, Fogs.” He took off his mask, but then hesitated. “Um.”

“Are you being shy now? How many years did we share a room?”

So Matt stripped down to his underwear and did as he was told. This time.

Foggy came into the bathroom as he was under the spray, and when he turned the water off he found a fresh towel and clean clothes left for him: a shirt, sweatpants. And – Matt smiled – socks. He put them on and followed the sounds of tea-making in the kitchen.

“You should be sleeping.”

“So should you, and yet here we are.” Ceramic on wood, and the smell of mint. Matt picked up the mug and warmed his hands around it. “So,” Foggy said. “Lurk here often?”

“I’m not lurking.”

“So what are you doing, listening to me sleeping?”

“That would be creepy.” He couldn’t really say _Yes, I am_, could he?

“Matt, please, it’s 4am. Just answer the damn question, and then we can all go to sleep.”

“I just… I don’t want anyone going after you. I just want to know you’re okay.”

“So you lurk on the roof to check I’m still alive, then go on your merry way? Why do you think I wouldn’t be fine?”

“People have gone after you before. You’ve been hurt before; Poindexter almost killed you… you’ve even been shot!”

Foggy thumped his mug on the table then hissed; a few drops of scalding tea had probably landed on his finger. “I remember, yeah. I waited for you to come see me, and you never did.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

Matt wasn’t sure how to answer. He settled on, “I’m sorry.” It was the truth, after all.

“I don’t want an apology, I want – Matt. Matt, don’t tell me you were listening in.”

“Okay.”

Foggy didn’t say anything for a long moment. “Holy shit, you can be such an asshole.”

“I know. It was my fault you got shot, and you didn’t want to see me, and the Hand was about to attack, and…”

“Wait, what? Hell, no. You pushed me _out of the way_ of the bullets. You saved my life! Of course I wanted to see you.”

“You were angry at me, and you were right to be.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean – Jesus, Matt. You should stop assuming you know what people are thinking, you suck at it.”

“I don’t!”

“You really, really do. Everything that happened then, it’s because we didn't talk, remember? We didn’t talk, and we didn’t listen, and look where it led us. We’re not doing that again. If you’re worried about something, you tell me, all right?”

“There’s nothing particularly worrying at the moment. Everything’s fine.”

“And you just like listening to me while I’m unconscious.”

“Sleeping. While you’re sleeping.” Matt wanted to squirm and managed to keep it down to a shudder. “See, you’re making me sound like a creep.” He took a sip from his tea; it burned but it was all he had as a distraction.

Foggy took the mug from his hands. “You’re not very good at understanding yourself, either. I mean, it did take me too long, but Marci was right. She said she wanted something simpler, you know?”

“Simpler? But…” They were good together, things had _been_ simple. Right?

“I mean, I loved her, still do; but she doesn’t like to share.”

Matt was totally lost, what was he on about? “Share? I don’t understand.”

“You fucking repressed idiot,” Foggy said, but his voice was… fond? “Do you do that with anyone else? The roof thing,” he added. Matt must have looked as confused as he felt.

“I just… I listen to the city, you know I do. And yeah, you don’t like it, but I’m not going to stop; you _can’t_ ask me to stop.”

“I’m not, I swear I’m not. I mean, I’d rather you didn’t go fight armed goons in your underwear, but that’s who you are. That's what you do. And whatever happens, I know you’ll always come back to…” Foggy’s voice wavered a little. Was something wrong? Matt opened his mouth to ask just that, but Fogs went on. “You always come back to me, in the end. Even when you try really hard to burn all your bridges.”

“I’m… sorry?” What was Matt supposed to say? He was, mainly, confused. He’d hurt Foggy, time and time again; he’d apologized and he was trying to be a better friend and he was still missing something, there was still something else that Foggy needed. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I know you hate it.”

Foggy sighed. His heartbeat didn’t really change, and for once Matt really missed sight. He imagined if he could see Foggy’s face, he’d know what he felt, what he wanted. As it was, nothing made sense.

“You know what? It’s not even light out, you have bags under your eyes, and it doesn’t look like you’re going to figure out anything right now. Let’s just sleep, okay?”

“I – yeah, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“You’ll do no such thing, Murdock. You woke me up, you better make sure I sleep tight in five minutes tops.”

“Hey! I’m not singing you a lullaby.”

“Hell no, you can’t sing for shit. No, buddy, you’re going to sleep right here, and I’ll know you’re not bleeding out in a ditch.”

“There aren’t ditches around the Kitchen,” Matt said as he stood up and followed Foggy. “And really, I should go home, your couch isn’t, uh.”

“My couch is _fine_ – ”

“It was in your parents’ basement – ”

“Which is a fine basement, finest in all of New York; I spent many hours on that couch as a boy – ”

“Okay, it’s even older than I thought, then.”

Matt could feel Foggy’s glare. “What, or rather _who_, are you calling old?”

“Um.”

But by then they were back into Foggy’s bedroom, and Matt remembered that it wasn't – that he wasn’t… no, Foggy didn’t mean…

Fabric on fabric sound, then: “Just get in the fucking bed, okay?”

Foggy meant. “You sure?”

“Don’t make me get up again.”

They’d never done that, sharing a bed. Even when going back to their dorm room drunk as could be, Matt had always managed to aim for his own bed and push Foggy towards his. But now, the bed was big enough, and they weren’t going to wake up smelling like sweat and alcohol, and…

“_Matty_,” and okay, he was dithering.

So he pulled down the sheets (not silk, but he’d live), and sat on the mattress, and then gingerly lay down. Foggy was right next to him; he could feel his warmth and the smell of the fabric softener he used and…

“You’re such an idiot, I swear,” Foggy grumbled.

“What…”

But then Foggy poked and prodded him and Matt followed the orders sent via pointy fingers and finally ended up on his side, his nose in Foggy’s hair. He put his palm against Foggy’s ribcage, felt it expand and contract. His heart was beating strong and even, reverberating all through Matt’s arm; and Matt’s own heart started to beat along.

“…oh,” he said.

“Keep the epiphany for the morning, m’trying to sleep here.”

Oh. Oh, right. “Good night, Fogs.”

Matt was smiling as he let himself slide into unconsciousness. He sure was an idiot sometimes.

**Author's Note:**

> So look i swear i tried to whump, and there's _totally_ whump, like mention of past whump! also drops of hot tea on Foggy's finger!


End file.
